


Furty six, sixty seven

by ifitships_isits



Series: Feathers and Fur [7]
Category: Supernatural, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Stiles, M/M, Omega Peter, Porn, Werewolf Peter, almost to the plot part!, magical stiles Rebuilt Hale home breaking in the house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitships_isits/pseuds/ifitships_isits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally!  Stiles and Peter get an entire weekend to themselves!  Well, until a certain set of hunters start asking questions.  But really, who expects the angel inqusition?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furty six, sixty seven

Fur six

There were a lot of people around town who thought Stiles was foolish for picking him. Peter was too old, too used up, too scarred. (although the scarred part was a little too on the nose, considering he still had a few deeper scars from the fire he was self conscience about.)  
The pack had a different view. They wondered what would posses Peter to settle for Stiles. After all, surely there were plenty of other alphas Peter could have enticed to marry him without dealing with the Sheriff’s errant son. Derek suspected it was Peter’s love of power that drew him to the budding spark. 

Stiles didn’t care what anyone thought, but he knew it bothered Peter. He ran his fingertips over the curve of Peter’s shoulder and down his back. He watched the muscles move under the skin as Peter rolled over to look at him. 

“You’re beautiful.” Stiles blurted out. Peter gave him an odd look of embarrassment and started to blush. 

“OH. MY.GOD. Did I just say that out loud? And you’re blushing? You can’t blush.” Peter sits up, leaning against the headboard, smiling. 

“Well, isn’t that what an Omega is supposed to do when their Alpha gives them a compliment?” he says slyly. Stiles slides off the bed, a bit stiff (so to speak, although he is sporting a nice morning wood) but feeling great. He stretches, folding himself this way and that, giving Peter a sidelong glance to see the omega appreciating the view. 

“Tease.” Peter say playfully. 

“It’s not a tease if I plan to put out.” Stiles says, shaking his ass and sticking out his tongue at Peter. 

Peter launches himself off the bed, carefully holding the boy as he took them into the master bathroom.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Stiles gets sneaky and grabs something from his bag while Peter is fetching towels for them. He’s hiding it behind his back when Peter returns.

“What’s this? He asks, playfully trying to get at whatever Stiles is hiding. 

“Promise not to laugh.” Stiles says, sounding nervous. His smell starts to change, a bit of shame curling between the smell of contented alpha and Peter steps back. He looks at his mate seriously. 

“Stiles, what is it?”  
“Igotaduckyfrommymomanditkeepsmefromdrowning.” Stiles words rush out, and he cringes slightly. Peter can’t help it. He grabs Stiles and kisses him. 

“Stiles, your dad told me about Howard. Scott swore me to secrecy about it. I know.”  
Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Fucking blabbers.” he causes. But he does pull the rubber duck out from behind his back. Peter smiles, squeezing the yellow thing and Stiles face lights up when it squeaks. Peter smiles indulgently. Stiles tosses the rubber ducky into the tub and wraps his arms around Peter. 

“Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou!” He kisses Peter”s face all over. They both giggle and start their bath.

Once the water is run, Peter and Stiles lay at opposite sides of the large tub, their feet tangled together in the water. Stiles was currently trying to pinch Peter with his toes. He kept sliding deeper in the water, rubbing his foot up Peter’s calf. He’s almost submerged up to his nose, grinning triumphantly as he pinches Peter’s thigh. A second later he is dunked completely when Peter grabs his ankle and dunks him under water. It only lasts for a second, before Stiles comes sputtering up looking slightly indignant. 

“What? I was just looking for the soap…” Peter says, fake innocence in his voice.  
Stiles pouts, his small victory destroyed by Peter’s quick move. Peter looks concerned for a moment before moving closer to his alpha. He gently arranges himself between Stiles legs, turning so he could feel Stiles chest against his back. Stiles quickly wrapped his arms around Peter, nuzzling his neck. Peter leaned against him, letting himself feel warm and safe. The ducky bobs in the water, and Peter has the sudden urge to squeeze it again. 

Stiles sees him eyeing the duck.  
“Go ahead. Howard is awesome! I’ve had him since I was, like two. It was mom’s favorite movie.” Peter can smell the warmth and affection, tinged with sadness on Stiles. Peter moves to grab the duck, and Stiles takes the opportunity to reach for the shampoo. Peter leans back, sinking further down so Stiles can work it into his hair. Stiles pours a bit into his hands and sets down the bottle on the edge of the tub. He worked it into Peter’s hair, running his nails over his scalp. 

Peter starts to hum. If Stiles didn't know better, he’d almost think it was a purr.  
Stile continues, Peter rumbling away in his lap. The vibrations against his thighs and Peter’s small movements in the water started to affect him, and Peter noticed.  
“Let’s finish this in the shower.” He says, getting up and dragging Stiles with him.  
“But I was relaxing,” Stiles whines.”Why do we have to get out?”

Peter looks down at Stiles growing erection.

“I’m not getting knotted in a bathtub, no matter how big. You only make that mistake once.” he groans.

“Really?” Stiles says, looking at him curiously. “Why?”

“As complicated as shower sex is, getting knotted in a bathtub? So much worse. The water gets cold, you get all pruney, and it’s hell on your back.” Peter smiles, despite the soap threatening to drip into his eyes. He pulls his alpha into the seperate shower, closing the door behind them. It's a small standup shower in the corner, about the size of an average closet. Peter and Stiles are smushed together after the door closes. Peter spins, pinning Stiles to the wall. He’s mouthing Stiles neck before Stiles can even get the water turned on. 

“Stop it! You’re going to get soap in my eyes!” Stiles squeals, and struggles in Peter’s grasp. Peter just growls possessively. Stiles lets him mark him for a few minutes before finally pushing at Peter’s shoulder. 

“I’m getting chilly here.” Peter kisses at the marks his human alpha now bares. Soap from his head drips down the marks, giving him ideas as the soap winds down Stiles long neck and over his chest. Peter turns on the water, adjusting it to a comfortable temp, and finally rinsing his hair. He shakes his head, causing a snicker from Stiles. 

“What?” Peter says, hand running down Stiles neck over the marks he left. 

 

But Stiles wants to take care of his mate. He runs his hands over Peter’s shoulders, over his ribs and the scars Peter still bears from the fire. Peter’s werewolf healing has made them faint, but Stiles knows they still make his omega uncomfortable. But they have never bothered Stiles.  
Peter lifts one eyebrow.  
“Are we going to give shower sex a try?” 

“Naaa, I really just want to get us clean and fed. We skipped dinner last night, and I’m starving, dude. I’m still a growing alpha, you know. You can show me shower sex next time.”  
Peter huffs out a laugh. The kid can almost outeat a werewolf and never put on any weight, and he was getting hungry himself.  
Stiles grabs the bar of soap and starting at the feet, washes every inch of his omega, rubbing at tense spots Peter didn’t even realize he had. He is gentle, and Stiles whispers praise at the omega, triggering Peter to relax at his alpha’s hands running over his body. After rinsing, Stiles drys Peter off carefully, and asks him to go pick out something comfy for the both of them while he drains the tub and dries Howard, putting him away in the medicine cabinet.  
Stiles comes out to find Peter laying naked on the bed. He crosses his arms. 

“What? I’m comfortable.” Peter shrugs.  
“What if someone shows up?” Stiles says.

“They better not.” Peter growls. Stiles stomach growls back. 

“I’m going downstairs to fix something. Get your own clothes.” Peter jumps out of bed and kisses Stiles on the way out.

“Pants! Pants are a thing! Especially when cooking!” Stiles grabs both pairs of pants struggling to put them on. Somehow he got one leg of each pair on, and almost fell down the stairs trying to get it sorted out. He reached the bottom of the stairs without breaking anything, wearing a single pair of sweatpants he was holding up by the waist. Great. He had put on Peter’s. He sat down on the bottom step and proceeded to fix his rushed mistake. Scott burst through the door just as Stiles stands up to pull up his sleep pants.

“Hunters! Stiles…. You’re naked! There are hunters and you are naked!” Scott turns away as Stiles hastily pulls up his pants. Scott whines.

“Really guys? In the living room? Where’s Peter?” Peter pokes his head around the corner, and joins them. Scott quickly turns to face the door. 

“Oh gross dudes! That’s where we eat! Is there any place you two haven’t fucked? Did you like the lightsabers?”

“Shut up Scott.” Peter mutters.

“Woah there, you’re channeling Sourwolf. What lightsabers?”

Scott turns back around, assuming Peter had been as eager to get dressed as Stiles. Sadly not.

“That’s what you got from that?” Scott is staring at the ceiling, trying not to get pissed and avoiding Peter’s nudity. 

“Peter, please put something on.” Scott is getting exasperated. Stiles can tell by his tone of voice. Scott has never trusted Peter, not after the bite and even after Peter had saved his (and Stiles’) ass on numerous occasions. Stiles had tried to broker peace between the two, but it was shaky at best. He shoves the sweat pants at Peter with a serious look. Peter sighs and puts them on. 

“Ok, pants are on. Now, lightsabers?” Stiles asks, turning to Peter.

Peter turns Stiles back towards his friend. 

“Get him out of here. I planned a whole weekend and surely Chris can deal with any hunter problems.”

“No, you don’t understand. They have FBI badges and they drive an Impala and they were down at the station asking about animal attacks. Isaac said he saw one of them at the library looking at newspapers.”

“Well, shit. Has anybody made contact? Do we have any idea why these guys are in town?” 

Stiles asks, rubbing one hand at the back of his head. Where was his phone? He needed to call Parrish. He was acting sheriff while John was away, he would know if the badges were genuine or just a hunter ploy. In a town like this, it was most often the latter. They had grown used to it, and even had a procedure in place. Known troublemakers were called out on their fake badges, kept overnight in a cell, and Chris would haul them out of town in the morning, with an armed and polite but firm goodbye. Also informing them that their hunting supplies would be mailed to an address of their choice. Those who proved more slick however, were followed to their hotel and informed by Chris to either leave or face the Hunter’s council. If they followed proper procedure and contacted the local hunters first, the pack mainly just stayed out of the way until they left, with the understanding the pack was off limits. Some hunters pushed, but any attack on the pack was dealt with quickly. Some hunters left nursing a few minor wounds, but one or two who insisted on “removing the scourge” were buried in unmarked graves on the preserve. Neither the pack nor the leader of the Argent family were willing to risk that again. 

“Let me go check my phone. I’m sure Parrish is on top of it.” Stiles said, turning to head up the stairs. Peter grabs his ass, giving it a squeeze. Scott makes a gagging sound and the happy couple ignore him. 

When Stiles finally finds his phone, he has 27 missed calls and fourteen texts. Two from Parrish, just a warning to be on the lookout, because the hunters had been asking a few questions about the fire and the missing people. A few were from pack members giving him shit about his weekend with “Creeperwolf”, which was beginning to irritate him, and a brief voicemail from his father, telling him that Melissa and him got checked into their hotel and were going out to dinner. 

The rest were from a panicked Scott. 

He heads back downstairs,phone in hand. Peter and Scott have moved to the kitchen, where Peter is mixing batter and already has the waffle iron out. There are sausages and eggs on the counter, and if he’s not mistaken, he knows there is fruit somewhere in the groceries they got last night.  
Stiles pops over to the fridge and grabs a handful of grapes before pulling the orange juice out. He eats some, then flings a grape at Scott, missing so badly it bounces off the bar and plopping into Peter’s batter. Peter, lickss it off of his lips, giving Stiles ideas..  
“Gross, dude. Stop macking on Peter and get your head in the game! What are we going to do?” Scott whines.  
Oh yeah, asshole friend to deal with first.  
“What the hell, man! I’m on my honeymoon! You couldn’t even make it a whole day without me?” Stiles throws another grape, but Scott’s reflexes allow him to catch it. Not one to ever waste food, he eats the grapes as Stiles chases him around the bar throwing grapes.  
Peter grabs Stiles as he comes around, pulling a stack of plates and handing them to him.  
Scott crows in victory as he notices three plates.  
“I assume you can set the rest of the table?” Peter asks his mate’s best friend and sighs. He knows the two have a special bond, and has grown used to been interrupted by the annoyingly innocent alpha. He still did not trust the Argents, but Chris had proven useful when dealing with various problems. He even helped convince Deaton to help seal the Nemeton to Stiles to keep the town safer.  
Peter dished out breakfast for the boys as Scott told him about the hunters posing as FBI. Parrish had filled Scott in as soon as the hunters had left. Chris planned to visit them later tonight to see what they wanted.

“And THIS required interrupting our weekend?” Peter pointed his fork at the young wolf. Scott gave his patented clueless look, and Stiles sighed.

“Well, the one with light hair asked about the fire. Asked if there were any six month olds in the house, specifically. Parrish turned over the file, At least the public version. I wanted to warn you guys because they seemed to be focused on the fire. If chris thinks they are trouble, he’ll run them off. But with your Dad gone, we don’t have as much backup. We have to be careful. And if they are after anything in particular, Derek says he can be home from dropping off Lydia’s stuff.” 

Derek had gone to England to sure the local alpha knew Lydia was part of a pack. (most major colleges had deals between pack and hunters to keep the peace.)  
Peter snorted.  
“They won’t find much.” Kate cleaned up most of the guilty ones and Peter had taken care of Kate. Chris hadn’t even brought it up in years, still hurting from the loss of his wife, father and sister to their own variant of the code.  
“Well, anyway, I have to go to work. Just be careful, and try not to piss them off. Deaton says Stiles may have a power boost in the forest, but all bets are off in town.” Scott waves a piece of bacon at them and stuffs it in his mouth as he turns to leave.

Stiles yells at him as he leaves, knowing the young wolf can hear him as he slams the front door.  
“That’s good, we aren’t planning on leaving the house!” He looks over at Peter, picking up the syrup with a twinkle in his eyes and licking his lips. Peter laughs as he hears the werewolf outside make a gagging sound as he realises what Stiles means.


End file.
